


my wingless, glass marionette

by orphan_account



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (victor isnt the one torturing btw), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Denial, Falling In Love, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Imprinting, M/M, Master/Slave, Omega Verse, Panic Attacks, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Torture, Rimming, Slow Burn, Soulmates, starts out slow burn but gets pretty spicy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-09-21 13:59:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9552014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Katsuki Yuuri was sold off to an omega auctioner when he was thirteen. Viktor Nikiforov was the son of a wealthy King and the heir to his throne, and hated his father's obsession with omegas with a passion.Realistically, they should have never fallen in love, but fate had a cruel way of fucking them both over when they least expected it.(In which Yuuri is broken and afraid and Viktor just wants to help him, but neither of them are good at dealing with their emotions so there's a lot of miscommunications and hurt feelings.)-- CURRENTLY ON HIATUS!





	1. glass eyes

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is currently on hiatus until i find the time & motivation to continue, however i was kindly asked to put it back up on ao3 for others to read, so here it is :^) thanks for reading!!

The whip lashed against his back with a loud crack, digging unforgiving leather overtop of a dozen other wounds. Yuuri gritted his teeth so hard that his head ached, and he shook from the effort it took to hold himself up. The attempt was in futile, though, as another lash sent him falling to his knees, the hard floor cold against his skin. It was a welcome relief to the heat licking at every inch of his flesh.

"Careful," a voice warned, though it dripped with indifference. "You don't want to break him. He's going to be sent to the auctions tomorrow, and injured ones barely pull in half the price as the rest."

A harsh laugh bounced off the walls, and Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut tightly to keep from flinching at the loud noise. The whip came down again, cutting into a previous laceration and his mouth parted in a silent cry of agony.

_No noise._ It was one of the first rules of this wretched place.

"They won't care." The whip-bearer sounded overly smug as he started wiping off the blood caked to his weapon. _My blood_ , Yuuri registered numbly. "Omegas are so rare these days as it is, and while he has a temper, he's got the looks to drag at least a half million in for the boss."

"With wounds like these, it's more like a quarter million," scoffed the first man.

"You'd be surprised." Footsteps clicked in his direction and Yuuri had to steel himself to keep from flinching as a blood-splattered hand pushed his hair from his eyes. Yuuri glared at the whip-bearer coldly, breathing hard through his clenched teeth.

The man bared his teeth into a grin and slapped him across the face. Yuuri's head whipped to the side as the loud crack bounced off of the concrete walls, and blood blossomed on his tongue from biting it on impact. The blood dripped to the floor from his chin, forming a tiny black pool at his knees.

"He may have a temper, but it's what keeps him from flinching. He'll be standing straighter than any of the other prizes tomorrow, you can bet on it." The man's voice was cruel as he ran a finger down Yuuri's injured back, digging a curved yellow nail into one of the deeper lashes with his fingernail until Yuuri choked on a scream. "See? Some sucker is going to pay a full mil for this shitheap, and we can finally get him off our hands and focus on more obedient omegas."

"Impressive." The first man came closer and peered at Yuuri, examining him from a distance like he was a caged animal about to lash out. "Where'd you find him, anyways?"

"We didn't. Apparently his pops got sick of his mouth and sold him off for a fat check," the whip-bearer's lips formed a grimy smirk around his lifeless cigarette. "I'd say he got more than this scrap is worth."

"He's a looker, though." Yuuri's eyes squeezed shut as the first man reached out and pulled at a few strands of hair on the back of his head, before it was clenched and ripped back, jerking his chin up. His eyes raised to meet the first man's as he appraised him like a piece of jewelry: calculating and cold. After a beat, the man whistled appreciatively and forced Yuuri's head to the side for a better view. "He's got eyes to kill for. Omegas with red eyes are rare."

"Even better for pitching him tomorrow," the whip-bearer agreed. "I heard that the Prince himself is going to be attending the auction tomorrow. If he gets his eyes on this one, I can almost guarantee a full wallet for the rest of our lives. The boss would piss himself."

"The Prince, huh?" The man released his hair, and Yuuri's head dropped exhaustedly. "I'm surprised he doesn't have his hands on an omega already. He's got to be at least eighteen by now."

"Rumors are spreading that he's hiding one, but it's probably upper class bullshit. My bet's that he got sick of them, since the King has a small army crawling in the castle's gutters." The whip-bearer chewed on the unlit cigarette stuck between his teeth thoughtfully. "He's been one of our biggest patrons. I wouldn't be surprised if it was his idea to have the Prince to attend."

The whip-bearer finally lit his soggy cigarette, the glow of the flame dancing off of the blood pooled on the ground and painting it black. The smell of nicotine stung Yuuri's lungs.

"Either way, we're going to get a good sum of cash for him," the man continued as he nudged Yuuri with his foot, taking a long drag and blowing it right in his face. Yuuri gritted his teeth to keep from coughing on the bitter smell. "The boss can finally stop chewing us out for not bringing in any money."

"And if he doesn't, we can just sell this thing's parts to some black market sucker and shove those proceeds down his throat to shut him up," the other man agreed.

They laughed and the sound was too loud, making Yuuri flinch just slightly. The whip-bearer didn't hesitate to lean down and breath down Yuuri's neck threateningly, the smell of damp cigarettes bleaching his words: "Don't fuck this up, omega. If you want out of here and into the fancy Prince's bed, you better be a good little bitch tomorrow, yeah?"

Yuuri didn't dare respond, even when the burning end of the cigarette was pushed into his spine. The flame licked at his open wounds and Yuuri swallowed around his cries of pain as the man dug the butt of the cigarette in and then tossed it to the side, not bothering to stamp it out.

"Let's go, before the pathetic piece of shit pisses all over our new shoes."

When the men were finally gone, Yuuri finally succumbed to the pain, silent sobs racking his malnourished body until he had no tears left to give and simply gasped on the wet basement air. Sleep took its sweet time dragging him down with cold fingers, and even then he only had nightmares of the places above where he was now.

* * *

"Welcome to the hundred and sixth annual Omega auction, my Prince," purred a man in an expensive suit, eyes glittered at the prospect of fresh money. "You may take a seat at the reserved area until the presentstion begins. Please let me know if there is anything we can offer you."

The suit man was polished clean just like a statue, crisp all the way from his brand new cufflinks to his recently shined leather shoes. He, like the rest of the staff, donned a laughably stiff black and white suit with a velvet tie, which for him was the color of a red grape. Everything from his gelled, dyed-white hair to his manicured and shaped fingernails was flawless, a perfect assemblance of spoiled aristocracy.

Suit man outstretched one hand in skilled politeness, gesturing for him to commence further. The Prince narrowed his eyes at the movement, once again picking up the undercurrent of malevolence that seemed to pour off of the entire staff in waves. As he stepped forwards, he could almost feel the suit man's gaze boring into his back.

The auctioning room itself was extraordinarily put together, rows upon rows of expensive chairs wrapped around a stage that gleamed under the bright lighting of a dozen chandeliers. It looked almost like a ball or formal assembly rather than an auctioning of people's lives, but there was still the undeniable presence of something darker under the glossy display that covered it.

His bodyguards led him to a reserved seat, which was exactly as one would expect it to be, extravagantly displayed a floor above the rest with a viewing station coated in gold. There was a pamphlet laid out on a ledge in front of the massive, royal blue chair embezzled with expensive jewels, along with binoculars for the faint of sight and an assortment of wines.

Ah, the filthy life of nobility. It was like bleach soaked in berries and left to dry: it gave the transparent idea of harmlessness, but was toxic at its core. Like the sickly sweet taste of medicine, dry and thick. The Prince didn't doubt his father had relished this feeling in this exact chair multiple times before, and just the thought made his stomach lurch with disgust.

He had too much time on his hands.

There was a low murmur of reserved chatter, never reaching a volume of coherency, that laid thick over the hundreds of people gathered. The Prince scrutinized them distastefully, at their prim attire and gentle fingers working at glasses of champagne they only pecked at but didn't drink. Horribly vain and horribly, horribly wasteful.

All of them were here for the same reason: to buy an omega. To barter ownership over somebody who had been raised like a wild animal rather than a human being.

These people were the filthiest of nobility; the priveledged upper class who indulged themselves in needless extravagants and pointless desires. They could have done as the rest of the world did and lived among omegas until they found one willing to work for them- but that was too _mundane_. Too much like the dirt-licking _working class_ they so despised.

Why bother going through the tedious work of a commoner when there were perfectly good omegas waiting at the tips of their greasy, cash-clamping fingers? Omegas who had been trained like dogs to lick their feet and kiss their polished nails.

Omegas had once been just as common as the everyday breeze, mingling among even the rich upper class as equals. There was a certain amount of suppressant behavior so that instinct did not turn them all into raging beasts, but the same went for Alphas, who were equally dangerous if pheromones spiked.

That was the way it had been a century ago. The divide between secondary genders had been nearly nonexistent, where ideas of a modernized culture where omegas could serve as royalty began to flourish.

And then the omega auctioneers had arrived.

"Your Highness." A cool, steady voice sounded behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder at his bodyguard as the man gestured to the stage. "The auction is beginning in thirty minutes. Would you like for me to read you the profiles of those being sold?"

The Prince glanced down at his pamphlet, which held elegant script identifying it was a list of available omegas. Almost like a shopping list, an online catalog- just the thought of it made his skin crawl and he shook his head quickly. "No. They can surprise me."

He wasn't interested in this. He wasn't interested in any of this petty auction- he wanted nothing more than to go back to the castle and do as he usually did. Anything would be better than sitting in this velvety chair and watching two hundred whip-trained omegas get sold off to filthy, cruel people who reeked of money and expensive liquor.

This was all his father's doing. The King's petty obsession with beautiful things had led to the funding of dozens of omega auctions. He collected them like a child collected buttons or toys- _obsessively_ \- and he wore them just as proudly, like jewelry. A new omega at every turn.

The Prince already knew that he wouldn't be buying any omega here. His father had never said he had to physically purchase one, he'd only said that he had to attend. As long as he sat through these next five hours, he would be able to sedate his father's constant pestering, if not just for a little while.

After a half hour, the lights dimmed until the only ones left were the ones on stage. As soon as the room darkened, so did the atmosphere, and the chatter died out into complete silence. It was no longer a social, it was exactly what these people had come here for- the selling and buying of human rights. The exchanging of property.

_Filthy_.

The first omega was brought to the stage immediately. There was no formal introduction or bothering with diplomacy: the lights dimmed, the audience quieted, and it began. The omega was led by a single handler to the center stage, and a glint of silver made the Prince hiss through his teeth.

He was being led by a collar.

Not just any collar, but a fancy silver one banded around his throat with a matching chain gripped in the hand of the man leading them. It almost looked as if there were diamonds pressed into it as well, a cruel accessory to appeal to the sadistic nature of the people here.

Aside from that, the omega was completely naked. Their body was thin, almost malnourished but not quite, and it practically glistened under the light of the stage. It was obvious even from a distance that the omega had been decorated, makeup pasted to their skin to make them look healthier and body tediously waxed of hair. They looked more like a doll than a human being.

The handler stepped up to the microphone and the omega stood behind him, not quite cowering but not standing proudly either. Perfectly still, like undisturbed water.

"Omega number one," the man introduced, his voice crackling over the speakers. "Male, twenty years old, ten years of handling."

The interest of the crowd evaporated immediately after he spoke, as if it had been forcibly sucked out of the air. Twenty years old was much too old for an omega to them. It was similar to spoiled milk left out to sit so long that had gone sour. The Prince scowled at their reaction as the man proceeded to list the subjects the Omega had been trained in (housekeeping, cooking, medical, and of course, _sex_ ) and interest began to pique just a little bit, but it never reached the initial level by a long shot. Normally, omegas were not as skillful as this one, but he did have ten years of _handling_.

Throughout it all, the omega didn't even blink. He stayed perfectly still until the man began to run through basic commands- kneel, stand, turn, and submit. The audience watched him closely, checking every inch of his body for a scar or damage, but found none. A display of obedience was given through a kissing of the fingers after a low bow.

The man leaned back to the microphone when he was done and said, "The starting bid is three hundred thousand."

There was a soft whisper through the crowd before slowly, the projector behind the two on the stage began to light up. A number was plastered to the screen in black letters: **300000**.

A few seconds passed, and the number jumped. **434800**.

Numbers soared for a while as the audience punched their bits into the tablets beside them, and the Prince didn't move. He kept his eyes on the omega, who obediently stayed still until the buzzer sounded and the counter settled on a final number.

$567,455.

That was the cost of the omega's life. That was how much he was worth in the eyes of these people. There was a soft murmur in the crowd before it petered out and the omega was led off of the stage without another word. Only then did his lifeless demeanor change, just a little- his shoulders relaxed, as if all of the tension had been pulled out of them. The naked eye would never have noticed unless they were looking, but the Prince had been looking if only to satisfy his need to prove the filthiness of these people.

The omega was relieved. Or he had given up.

The Prince didn't want to think about which it was.

After that, the displays seemed to fly by. Audience interest waxed and waned, differing levels of interest rippling throughout the crowd as different omegas were presented. All of them were fundamentally identical, save for their skills and abilities. They stood straight, waited silently, did as they were told. Like perfect little dolls. The Prince was beginning to get bored, leaning back and thumbing at the corner of the pamphlet boredly as the men on stage droned about the tamed omegas behind him.

As he was flipping through the pages, something caught his eye. Blinking, the Prince flipped back through the past few pages, searching for the one that had stood out to him. After a few seconds, he found it, and all of the air was sucked out of his body.

He knew this one.

The recognition was as sudden as it was unidentifiable. The moment he laid eyes on the grainy profile picture, familiarization tugged a hard chain on his heart, but he couldn't conjure up how he knew the omega no matter how hard he racked his brain.

The Prince brushed his thumb thoughtfully over the black and white photo. The omega's dark eyes stared back at him, unfocused. He felt like he was looking through a one way window. The Prince glanced at the number beside his picture:

199.

His gaze moved to the auction board. The number 187 glared back at him.

"Your Highness," the bodyguard beside him spoke up, noticing his odd behavior immediately. "Is something the matter?"

The Prince glanced over his shoulder, eyes still slightly widened in surprise, before he realized his fingers were trembling around the papers in his hands. The bodyguard was stiff, as if looking for a threat, and the Prince fought desperately to calm himself down.

"I'm fine." The Prince struggled to keep him voice even as he turned back to the stage, ignoring the disbelief that etched itself onto the bodyguard's face. "Don't bother me."

He wasn't sure what he'd felt when he'd looked at omega, 199. It wasn't the recognition one felt when they looked at somebody they'd seen in passing, it was like looking at an old friend whose name you couldn't remember, a blurry face stuffed within the cobwebs of his mind. The Prince shook his head desperately to clear it and refocused on the omegas being presented, subconsciously tapping his fingers against the armrest of his chair as the numbers ticked by.

_They just look like somebody else I know_ , he reasoned with himself as 196 stepped forward, chewing on his bottom lip nervously in spite of the thought. Undoubtedly his pheromones were leaking out, reeking of anxiety- he could tell by the tense set of his bodyguard's shoulders. All of his staff were Betas, per the norm, but even they couldn't ignore somebody as potent as the Prince.

Especially when he was radiating stress.

198 stepped off of the stage and the Prince found his eyes glued to the place of entrance, desperately awaiting the arrival of the next to last omega. Silence hung over the crowd like a miasma, thick and expecfant. Nobody moved- and seconds ticked by into minutes. For a moment the Prince wondered if that was it, if he had missed the last two in his panic, but then there was a soft thud from offstage and a shadow appeared that manifested into the shape of a man gripping a chain.

Another man appeared beside him shortly after who also held a chain, and shock rippled through the crowd- for an omega to have two handlers was rare, and was usually reserved for less benevolent ones.

Omegas who were too much trouble for just one handler.

When the Omega was finally revealed from the shadows hovering by the backstage, he didn't even seem slightly agitated, much to the crowd's surprise. He moved just like the rest, his steps careful and back poised with his arms bound in front of him and a cool, metal collar wrapped around his throat that seemed to dwarf him by its bulk and size.

He was small, but most omegas were. He had black hair that curled around his face and feathered at the nape of his neck, longer than usual but almost endearingly so. The light bounced off of his pale, smooth skin in a way that made him glow. Just like the rest of the omegas, he was beautiful.

The Prince leaned back in his chair, a mixture of relief and disappointment waging in his mind. The first man took to the microphone and, in the same drawl as the rest, introduced the man behind him.

"Omega number one ninety-nine, male, eighteen. Handled for five years." He was older than most, which usually ranged from 10-16, but not out of range quite yet. Subtle interest flickered in the crowd before the man continued. "He has been trained in all basic tasks, including housecleaning, cooking, tailoring... he is also adept in pleasuring alphas, betas, and omegas alike."

Pleased surprise rolled through the crowd, which only disgusted the Prince further. Normally omegas were trained specifically to suit alphas, and rarely betas, but to be able to pleasure other omegas as well was practically unheard of. And it seemed to excite some of the members of the crowd, as pheromones began to slip through the cracks of their supplementary disguise. He tried to ward off the feeling of disgust as he focused on the omega whose identity he still couldn't place.

After the introduction was the commands. A test of obedience and submission, to ensure that no foul deal would be made. The handler turned to the omega, who never lifted his eyes from his bared feet.

The air the Prince breathed felt thick, tension rippling through his nerves, and he didn't know why. He only realized he was holding his breath when the room dipped a little beneath him. He struggled to regain his composure as the handler spoke.

"Kneel."

The word was toneless, and for a moment there was no reaction. The omega didn't even flinch, his eyes glued to the floor. The hesitation caused crowd members to fidget uncertainly, fearing a misbehavior or disability- a deaf omega was essentially useless. Any kind of handicap was frowned upon.

But then there was a shift in atmosphere, and the omega fell to his knees with a soft thud that reached even the Prince's ears. His neck bowed at the perfect degree, his hands splayed on his legs and back hunched. He didn't once look up from the floor.

The Prince didn't know how to explain the defeat pounding in his chest. What had he been expecting? Some kind of performance? This was an auction- defective omegas were weeded out long before they were presented. Just because this one looked familiar to someone he knew didn't make him any different.

Still... he couldn't chase away the feeling of unease in his chest. As if he wasn't quite grasping what was in front of him, as if something was missing.

The handler raised the chains and barked shortly, "Stand."

The omega stood, this time without the slightest of hesitation, but something caught the Prince's eye near his neck. Perhaps it was just the glint of a jewel on his collar. He frowned.

"Display yourself," the handler ordered.

Slowly, the omega lifted his bound arms over his head, stretching out his pale stomach and exposing his front. With deliberate movements, he turned and exposed every angle of his body. It was smooth, cold as marble, just like the rest. Uninterrupted porcelain skin that gleamed under the light of the stage. Flawless.

_Too flawless. Something isn't right._

The omega turned back to face the audience and lowered his arms once more, gaze still glued to the ground beneath him as if it interested him more than the world around him, as if he wished it would swallow him whole. The handler tapped his shoulder and the omega fell into an obedient bow immediately, gaze dropped.

The handler outstretched a hand right in front of the omega's face, fingers brushing just below his chin. The final test- submission. The omega was supposed to kiss each finger in turn, and then once on the center of the outstretched palm. A complete bestowal of obedience, acceptance of the hand that held his chains.

"Submit," the handler ordered tonelessly.

Three seconds passed without movement, and none of the audience moved, somehow just as enthralled by this omega that was no different from the rest aside from his slowness and hesitation. But the Prince could feel it too, a looming threat in the air, an unease that rippled through the room in waves. Pheromones were everywhere, anxiety and excitement like a live wire traced around the walls.

The omega leaned forward slightly, eyes still downcast as his hands lifted to cup the one outstreched to him and hold it in place. His lips brushed over the pinky finger first. Nobody dared to breathe as he then followed by kissing the ring finger, the middle finger, the forefinger, and then finally pressed his mouth to the pad of the handler's thumb.

The handler's fingers were trembling. Only slightly, but it was enough for the Prince's eyes to catch. _Why_?

The omega then moved his lips to the opened palm, hovering a millimeter away from the center. His gaze was still locked on the floor beneath him, focusing intensely now as if he had found something that he had been looking for. With a soft exhale that seemed to echo off the walls, the Omega pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the man's palm.

The thick silence that had fallen over the room was shattered by an ear-splitting scream.

The handler stumbled backwards, his hand dropping the chains with a loud clang and instead wrapping around his own wrist. His mouth was parted an agonized howl, fingers gripping his formerly outstretched hand shakily.

Confusion quickly erupted into mass terror as blood pooled in the handler's palm and splattered to the polished wooden floor. The heady scent was enough to make half of the room choke on their disgust and the other half tremble with anxiety. At their nobility, they had probably never seen blood before, much less smelled it, and now the scent of it was overwhelming along with the thick pheromones still lingering from earlier.

The omega remained utterly still despite his actions and the handler dropping his chains. The Prince noticed with a jolt that there was blood smeared on his lower lip, and as he watched, the omega's tongue slipped out and cleaned off the blood on his lip emotionlessly.

_He had bitten the handler._

As he watched, the omega finally tore his eyes off of the ground and lifted them towards the crowd. Those eyes did not hesitate as they locked onto the booth lifted a floor above the others and narrowed accusingly. The Prince found himself staring directly into the bloodred eyes of the omega across the room, and the air ripped out of his lungs once again as the recognition struck him hard in the chest just like before.

Before he could find the rationale to react, a heavy hand gripped his shoulder and he turned to stare blankly at his bodyguard, who seemed just as shaken but for a different reason. "Your Highness, it would be best if we left before things escalate."

The Prince stared at him before simply turning back to the stage. The omega was still on the stage, but now he was hunched over with his forehead pressed to the floor, his teeth clenched and feathery black hair falling in his face. His eyes were once more downcast, their connection shattered. The Prince noted with a jolt that there was blood dripping from his lips, except this time it was his own.

The second handler held his chain taut, to the point where asphyxiation was more than likely, and yet the omega showed no signs of struggling. It was as if he had already done the damage he wanted to do, and was now accepting the punishment.

The Prince noticed vaguely that the other handler had disappeared. A trail of blood droplets led to the backstage, as well as the thick scent of his fear. The audience still reeked of anxiety and displeasure, but the second handler seemed to ignore it as he jerked the chain forward and stepped up to the microphone.

"The starting bid is one million dollars," he said, his voice cold and apathetic. As if he was not suggesting somebody pay a fortune for an omega who had just blatantly sunk his teeth into his own handler,

Silence met his words.

The fear dissolved into raw shock as the audience tried to comprehend the number that had just been shoved in their faces. After a moment of hesitation, it appeared behind him on the massive projector, glaring tauntingly at them.

Realistically, there was no chance in hell that anyone would pay a million dollars for an omega that had just bitten its handler. They wouldn't even pay so much as a mere penny- they'd pay more to have it beaten to death before their very eyes.

Omegas were meant to be submissive by nature. They were the lowly bitches to an aggressive stud, the object for releasing violence. They were supposed to be at the bottom and not complain about it. To have an omega even speak to an alpha casually was almost unheard of, and to have one lash out at an alpha?

It was essentially modern blasphemy.

A minute ticked by without a single bid. The omega's chest shuddered as he gasped quietly air, just barely breatning around the collar strangling his throat, and the droplets of blood at his knees formed a pool that was already blackening and drying. Thirty grueling seconds remained until the auction expired. The entire audience seemed to be holding their breath, trepidly waiting for the scum of an omega to be removed from their sight.

At the very last possible second, the number lit up, announcing that the starting bid had been placed.

**1,000,000.**

Surprise made its way through the crowd, and even the handler seemed stunned, squinting at the number in disbelief. A starting bid had been placed. Somebody was willing to buy the omega that had just bitten its handler at such a ridiculous price.

The Prince removed his finger from the button and quietly placed it back in his lap.

His bodyguard had fallen completely silent, but he could taste his confusion and anxiety as if it were his own. Undoubtedly he planned to contact the King immediately, but the Prince didn't care. He didn't care what they did, because in the end, he had done exactly what his father wanted, hadn't he?

To be honest, the Prince didn't know why he had hit the bid button. Maybe it was the foolish recognition that still tugged at his chest. Maybe it was his craving for something, _anything_ other than the sickening saccharin taste of royalty that surrounded him. Maybe he just wanted to prove to the money-fouled people in the audience that omegas weren't worth their submission.

Maybe he just wanted change.

The timer went off and the audience let out a collective breath, but unease settled like a thick cloud over them all as the handler jerked the omega up by his neck and said, "Sold to Viktor Nikiforov."

With that, he dragged the silent omega to the backstage. Just before they left, the omega looked over his shoulder, and their eyes locked again. The reds of his irises seemed to swallow Viktor whole, and a single word came to mind, loud and primal:

_Mine._


	2. glass teeth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is dedicated to mr. stinkbug who scared the shit out of me and stunk up my room at three am when i finished editing this

Viktor had been under the impression that, after hours of bargaining off people's lives, the worst of the auction was over. He soon came to realize just how wrong he was: the true vulgarity of the whole event had only just begun.

As soon as the last omega was auctioned off (albeit hesitantly, due to the crowd still being rattled by 199's performance and purchase) the lights were turned on again and the room almost immediately launched into its earlier vibrancy, people chatting leisurely amongst each other as if they hadn't just purchased two hundred omegas' lives in the last four hours.

Viktor stood as the people began to file out of the huge theater, but a hand was placed on his right shoulder to hold him back. Viktor nearly bared his teeth at the perpetrator before realizing it was his bodyguard, who was seemingly no longer shaken by Viktor's earlier antics- at least, not visibly.

"You should remain here, your Highness," his bodyguars said, choosing his words carefully. "I can do the rest of the preparation myself."

Confusion spread across Viktor's face as he spoke. Why wouldn't he have to be there for the collection of his new omega? Glancing back to the crowd, Viktor realized that most of the more lavishly decorated guests had not moved from their seats. Did they leave their dirty work to their servants?

There was no way Viktor would stoop so low.

"Absolutely not." Viktor brushed the man's hand off and stood, placing the crude pamphlet back on the table before he headed for the door. "I can do it myse-"

His bodybuard placed himself between Viktor and the door in a single motion, blocking the exit.

Viktor was by no means a weak person, but he was nowhere near as physically daunting as his bodyguard. All of the bodyguards hired had extensive physical training as well a desensitization to the thralls of omegas and alphas- they were essentially walking shields. Viktor couldn't lay harm to this man if he tried, but he wasn't supposed to have to- they were for his protection, and in no position to... to do exactly what this ome was.

Viktor narrowed his eyes, but the man didn't waver.

"Please sit down, your Highness," his bodyguard said, his voice less polite and more forceful. His arms were crossed over his broad chest, and he met Viktor's cold gaze evenly. "I insist."

Viktor took a moment to size up the man in front of him. If he sat down complacently he could slip out when his bodyguard left, but that was ridiculous. If he ran, he could get a good head start, but that still defeated the point. Fighting was completely irrational. But if he made a direct order to the bodyguard, perhaps he would have some authority- unless he was already under his father's orders.

"What is your name?" Viktor said instead, lifting his eyes back the man after finding no acceptable escape route. "You have one, right?"

"Of course I do." His bodyguard seemed put off by the question, blinking down at him. "It wouldn't interest you to know my name, your Highness."

"On the contrary, it would." Viktor smiled warmly, which further disarmed the man. "It's only natural that I be familiar with my bodyguard, right? If I'm going go entrust you with the safety of my new omega, I ought to know your name, at the least."

Stunned by his sudden resignation, his bodyguard shifted his weight uncomfortably. "My name is Christophe Giaccometti."

"Chris, then." Viktor's smile was broad. The nickname made Christophe atraighten in surprise, clearly unused to being referred to so informally. "You can call me Viktor."

"I- I could never, your Highness," Chris managed to force out, still looking rather uneasy. Clearly nobody had ever been this familiar with him- of course not, he was an employee of the Nikiforovs, not a friend.

Viktor laying a hand on his shoulder warmly only seemed to disable Chris further. "No more of this 'your Highness' nonsense," Viktor insisted with a dismissive wave of his free hand. "Let's hear it. Say, 'it's nice to be acquainted with you, Viktor.' Simple."

Chris chewed on his inside lip anxiously. "I should go-"

"Say it," Viktor repeated, leaning forward and tilting his head, silver hair falling in the way of his eyes as he looked up at Chris pleadingly, pulling the role of a petulant prince rather nicely. "Please? It's rather lonely being a Prince... not many people are eager to be friends with me."

Chris seemed to wither slightly under his gaze, before finally pressing out a tired sigh and shaking his head in defeat. He looked much younger than Viktor's had originally thought, with bright olive eyes and a kind face, when it wasn't all pinched up.

"It's nice to be acquainted with you, Viktor," Chris said, practically biting the words out.

Viktor grinned. "I almost feel bad for you."

His bright tone threw Chris off for a moment before realization dawned on his face- a split second after Viktor knocked him in the back of the head, using the proximity to his advantage so that he didn't stand a chance. Chris collapsed like a deadweight on top of him, and Viktor made haste to carefully arrange him in the velvet seat of the chair, making it look like he had dozed off instead of... well, what had actually happened.

He would owe Chris for this.

Looking down at the unconscious man, Viktor made a final adjustment to his uniform so it looked mord rumpled and tilted the man's head to the side slightly, admiring his work. "I hope we get to be friends in spite of this, dear Chris," he said woefully, stepping back and saluting him. "You seem like the kind of person I would like under different circumstances."

With that, Viktor made his way out of the fancy booth and down the stairs where the rest of the purchasers were mulling about. Some were chatting idly, while others all seemed to be headed in one general direction, so Viktor followed them, trying to appear as casual as possible. Thankfully, he had opted for a suit and tie like most people here, instead of the extravagant outfits he usually had to wear out.

Yeah, thankfully.

Shaking his head, Viktor made his way into the room where they were all headed. Once he got through the massive gold-embroidered door, he found himself face to face with what was possibly the most disgusting display he had ever seen in his life, once his eyes had adjusted to the low light.

It was a store. Not just that, but a store intended for distrubuting items specifically for the threatment of omegas- both pleasant and unpleasant in varying degrees, though leaning heavily on the latter. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes fell on rows upon rows of elegant collars, each more outlandish than the first. The options ranged from the now-plain-looking silver and gold collars the omegas had been presented in to what could only be described as choke collars with thick, rusting metal and spikes thrust haphazardly into the surfaces. While it was likely designed for aesthetic purposes and not really a legitimate rusting hunk of metal, the idea of somebody wanting to purchase it made Viktor's stomach writhe.

The offensiveness of the items didn't stop there. The room itself was brimming with items of varying brutality- whips (some embroidered with gold), sex toys, bits, uniforms, and even ropes and chains adorned various displays. The nefarious activities of all the people here was put out on gruesome display and it was completely shameless- people in expensive clothes mulled around pulling at chains to test their durability and stockpiled obscene amounts of sex toys in their dainty arms.

Maybe this had been why Chris had tried to stop him.

Either way, it was too late now. Viktor pressed his lips together and hurriedly through the next door people were filing out of, praying to God he didn't just find more accessories and playthings lined up along the walls. Fortunately it opened up into a large room, and there were all of the presented omegas lined up like cattle- each individually prepared to be signed off to a new owner.

Suppressing a shudder, Viktor glanced around the room before he found where the people were crowding at. Several tables had been lined up according to the omegas numbers- he quickly moved to the table for 170-200 and placed himself in line. There were only a few people in front of him, and he soon found himself face to face with a tired old man who looked through his eyebrows.

"Name," the man drawled around a toothpick, chewing on it idly with yellowed teeth.

"Viktor Nikiforov."

A pencil slowly made its way down the paper in front of the man, drawing a thin gray line, before landing on where Viktor presumed his name wa. The man growled around his toothpick, lifting his eyes back up to Viktor. They were slightly cloudy, and had a haunting look to them.

"Identification."

"Use your eyes," Viktor quipped back, already on edge thanks to the display he'd witnessed on his way here and the probability of Chris busting in here at any second. The unamused look Viktor received from the old man made him sigh out loud, but he complied and dug around in his pockets before he found his omega license his father had dispensed on him years ago and demanded he bring with him. Viktor dropped it on the table unceremoniously. "There. Anything else?"

The man squinted at his I.D. before glancing back at up at him. "So, you're actually his royal Highness?"

"Yes, if it wasn't already obvious. Now please stop wasting time." Viktor's voice was cut short and impatient; his desire to get out of this place was overwhelming, and the smell of a thousand different people he already loathed in one tight space was beginning to piss him off. Viktor rarely went outside of the castle, and it was only his father's forcing that had put him here today.

The old man, to his merit, swallowed whatever remark he had been planning to make and nodded, working minutely faster. He returned Viktor's license and then sorted out a manilla folder from the stack beside him. The number 199 was printed onto the front, as well as a name:

_Katsuki Yuuri._

It was a foreign name, Viktor noted idly, but he tucked it under his arm nonetheless. Foreign omegas were supposedly rare, was that why he was so expensive? Once the payment was arranged (his father would be furious, but it served him right), the man gave him a card with a simple identification on it and pointed him to a door in the back. Viktor's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Why isn't he out here with the rest of the them?"

"Tried to run away," the man drawled, clearly disinterested as he waved Viktor on. "The other disruptive omegas get put in separate rooms to keep them from bolting too."

"So you locked him in a room alone?" Viktor couldn't keep the bitterness from leaking into his voice- a careless mistake. The old man's cloudy eyes turned to him disbelievingly before he simply grunted and turned back to his papers.

"His handler is with him, of course."

Somehow, the thought wasn't overly relieving.

Biting his lip, Viktor made his way to the back room and turned the doorknob, peeking in hesitantly. He felt like a little kid eagerly awaiting his Christmas presents, nerves buzzing with energy, and he tried to shake it off as he opened the door the rest of the way.

The first thing he saw was the handler unconscious on the floor.

There was no blood, so the man likely wasn't dead, but his eyes were rolled back into his head and his arm was bent at an unsightly angle. Viktor's eyes snapped up from the unconscious handler to the figure lingering in the shadows, waves of fear and aggression rolling off of him that Viktor picked up on immediately, even with the distance.

Yuuri, according to the file, was chained to the wall by his neck, feral red eyes watching Viktor's every move like a frightened animal. He was poised like one as well, braced to the wall with his shoulders pressed back defensively. His wrists were still bound in front of him, so the handler must have gotten too close to Yuuri and suffered the consequences.

Something like pride threatened to well up inside of Viktor's chest: he forced it down before those thoughts could confuse him any further. The terrified omega never tore his eyes off of Viktor, clearly waiting for the right moment to strike if he got too close.

Viktor opened his mouth to speak, and the omega flinched before he could even get a word in. Viktor hesitated before exhaling softly, closing his eyes. Clearly this wouldn't go over well unless he was careful. He didn't want to end up like the handler, sprawled on the floor with a broken arm.

He wanted, he realized with a start, to earn Yuuri's trust.

Without even intending it, Viktor had begun to secrete calming pheromones. It was the natural response to sensing a distressed omega, but it had the complete opposite effect on Yuuri, who started to take short, shallow gasps of air to avoid breathing it in and shied away from his scent immediately. Viktor had to forcibly clamp down on his alpha-centric behavior, while never moving from his initial position. It wasn't until a good couple of minutes had passed that he dared to step all the way into the room.

Yuuri pressed even further against the wall, the chain around his neck rattling with the action, and the sound of it bounced off of the manicured walls. Yuuri flinched away from it, before suddenly gritting his teeth, his gaze darting back to Viktor as if awaiting punishment.

For flinching.

"I'm not going to hit you," Viktor blurting, struggling to keep his voice soft and calm in spite of his inner panic. If he fucked this up, Yuuri would have him on the floor, he knew it. For all the rumors of omegas being harmless, Yuuri had disputed them within seconds in a single display on a stage in front of a thousand people.

For a moment, Viktor swore he saw the slightest twinge of disbelief in Yuuri's eyes before he carefully masked it with the terror from before. Viktor was at a loss- he had no idea how to deal with omegas, much less one that was scared to death of him and incredibly violent. He'd have more luck turning into an omega himself.

Taking a small step forward to test the waters, Viktor balked when Yuuri physically bared his teeth at him and recoiled as if attacked. A warning flashed in his red eyes that dared Viktor to come any closer, to meet a gruesome fate.

This was going absolutely nowhere.

"Yuuri," Viktor said slowly, trying out the name he'd seen on the paper. The omega stiffened immediately, the fear in his eyes giving way to surprise- but it was good, it was improvement. Viktor tried again, still keeping his voice soft and gentle, "Katsuki Yuuri, that's your name, right? Can I call you Yuuri?"

Yuuri stared at him. Viktor met his gaze evenly until Yuuri's weight shifted and the chains rattled quietly with the movement, and he dropped his chin once in what could have been considered a small nod. Grasping for straws, Viktor went ahead and assumed it was.

He nearly exploded with relief, only remembering at the last second to maintain his pheromones in case he scared Yuuri off again. He mentally congratulated himself on his success before turning his attention back to the frightened Yuuri, who was still watching him with unease.

"I'm going to get you out of this place, Yuuri," Viktor promised, dropping some of his earlier gentleness to speak earnestly. Yuuri seemed stunned by the proclaimation before his gaze darkened with alarm: he thought Viktor was going to take him somewhere worse. Somewhere where there were people like the ones outside of this room, like the ones buying rusty old collars for aesthetic.

The fear scent returned tenfold. Yuuri was almost physically quivering in his binds, and Viktor could feel his control over the situation slipping quickly. He raised his hands, the movement making Yuuri stiffen.

"I already told you I wouldn't hurt you," Viktor said, splaying his hands out in a gesture of peace. "I don't expect you to believe me, but I want to get you out of here before they find out about him." He gestured to the stone-cold unconscious handler and Yuuri followed his gaze with slight surprise in his expression, as if he'd completely forgotten about the man. "I'm going to need you to trust me. Can you do that, Yuuri?"

Yuuri met his gaze, for once completely unflinching, and Viktor saw a dozen answers in his eyes. _No. I can't trust anyone; I can't even trust my own body. Why should I trust some stranger just because he spent a million dollars on me? I can't trust you._ But among them was a slight flicker of indecision, a hesitation that gave Viktor the answer he needed:

_Where else is there to go?_

After a moment, Viktor took a small step forward, and while Yuuri growled softly in his chest he made no move to stop Viktor. Fear rolled off of Yuuri in waves, his slender body trembling with exhaustion and terror, and Viktor was hypersensitive to his every change in behavior, every fluctuation in mood. Slowly, step by excruciating step, Viktor made his way closer until he was close enough that if he outstretched a hand, he could just brush his fingers over Yuuri's chest.

Yuuri was still plastered to the wall and watching him with calculating eyes. He didn't budge (aside from the tremors that racked his body) and his head was bent down aggressively, but he also made no move to stop Viktor's pursuit.

And yet.

Viktor took another small step forward, and the truce shattered. A pair of bound fists headed straight for his lower jaw, mimicking the move Yuuri had likely used on the handler behind him. Viktor's instincts reacted before he did, and he caught Yuuri's wrists within his own hands before they hit his jaw, their clenched hands hovering just in front of his chest.

Yuuri's eyes widened for a moment as panicked flooded his expression, and he tried in vain to rip his hands free. When that didn't work Yuuri attempted to kick Viktor in the shins, but the shackles on his legs made him slip, and it took all of his strength to stand before he was asphyxiated by the collar around his throat. Yuuri made a point of struggling in Viktor's grasp for a good few minutes, kicking and thrashing and making terrible noises of fear and anger, before he wore himself out and slumped against the wall, resorting to just watching Viktor exhaustedly.

Yuuri's wrists shook in Viktor's hands, the chains attached to them rattling with the force of it and Viktor felt the familiar flood of anger welling in his chest at whoever had made him like this, had made any omega like this. Hr stamped it down and focused on Yuuri instead.

Up close and in the dark, the red of his eyes was much more muted and seemed like more of a russet brown than red, but he could definitely see hints of the rumored color flashing at him from the proximity. He also noticed the fine curve of Yuuri's too-long eyelashes as they ghosted over his cheekbones and the slight curve of his lip that made it seem like he was always smirking as if he knew a secret, and the softness to his features that was easy to miss from a distance.

He was delicate, breakable. And the alpha inside of him reared its head back with joy at the mere thought of pushing Yuuri's boundaries and seeing what would make him break- a primal desire to splinter him at the edges, take him apart piece by miniscule piece. His fingers tightened around the frail bones of Yuuri's wrists as he felt a carnal desire writhe in the pit of his stomach, his pupils widening with the thrill of it.

Viktor took another foolish step forward, and Yuuri collided their heads together without a second thought. The impact made the world go black for a good few seconds as Viktor stumbled backwards, releasing Yuuri's wrists to hold his head gingerly as waves of pain rolled from his temple down his spine. It took a long time for the world to stop spinning, but when it did he was struck with the realization of what he'd just done- or rather, his alpha had done.

 _I'm no better than them_ , Viktor thought bitterly as he reflected on his primal thoughts with disgust, remembering the frightened look in Yuuri's eyes as he crept closer. No wonder Yuuri had struck him, he was acting like a sex-starved dog... but there had been something else crawling below the surface, an itching sensation in the back of his mind and the tip of his tongue. It was almost like-

It was almost like Yuuri had purposefully drawn him in. Used his abilities as an omega to lure Viktor in like a stupid fish and then snatched him with waiting jaws. Viktor whirled on Yuuri as soon as he realized this, baring his teeth. "Are you k-"

Instead of seeing Yuuri's glaring eyes, Viktor found himself facing a slumped over, very unconscious Yuuri, held up only by the collar clenched around his throat.

Clearly the headbutting and desire-manipulating had taken the last of Yuuri's strength from him; he looked like a ragdoll snapped of its threads, limp and lifeless. It was almost frightening, the abrupt transition- he looked so much younger when his eyes weren't ablaze with terrorized rage.

Realizing Yuuri would probably suffocate if he wasn't released from his collar, Viktor quickly looted the handler's pockets for the key and unhinged Yuuri from the wall, letting him slide to the ground gently. The crude collar around his neck was removed with a different key and Viktor tossed it to the side with disgust, the loud clang grating his ears, but the sight underneath of it made Viktor inhale sharply.

Encircling Yuuri's neck was a ring of violent, swollen bruises in a perfect reflection of the collar. Some of the skin had even been cut from the more aggravated areas and Viktor feared that if it had been left on for any longer, he could have choked just from the swelling in his neck. His fingers ghosted over the angry marks hesitantly before fury welled in his stomach as he imagined all of the other omegas getting similar treatment.

These people truly were the most repulsive people he had ever encountered, his own father included.

Viktor shook his head before sticking Yuuri's file in his coat and carefully lifting the unconscious omega, holding him with one hand under Yuuri's legs and one supporting his back. He cradled Yuuri's face to his chest, ignoring the intoxicating scent that made his inner alpha wail with desire, and stepped over the unconscious handler back out into the open-

And right into his good friend, Christophe Giaccometti.

Just in case the situation couln't get any worse. Fortunately, Chris' body blocked them from view, so no heads were turned at the abnormal sight... for the time being. Chris, however, was livid. Even for a beta he seemed to be physically intimating enough to have Viktor prickling with unease, drawing Yuuri closer to his chest defensively.

"Your Highness," Chris said through his teeth, "I would advise you to make haste if you plan to leave. Your purchase has made quite an issue of himself with the staff here, and it's likely they will press charges since you officially hold ownership over him now."

Viktor stifled his exasperation, glancing down at the omega curled in his arms. For such a seemingly harmless person, Yuuri had managed to cause a lot of trouble in the past hour all on his own. He couldn't help but admire the ferocity he displayed- it caught Viktor off-guard, and he loved the feeling.

"Understood." Viktor looked back up at Chris and frowned a little. "But, I'm pretty sure I told you not to call me that God-awful name."

"Is that so?" Perhaps it was because he'd been subjected to a day spent babysitting Viktor Nikiforov, perhaps it was because of the stiffness in his neck, perhaps it was because of the looming threat of being fired, but Chris' smile lacked its usual luster when he responded. "I seem to have forgotten everything from around the time you decided to knock me unconscious. You have a formidable right hook, your Highness."

Viktor stared at him blankly, stunned by the shift in demeanor, before he offered a tight-lipped smile and decided not to push his boundaries any further today. "Touché," he said, and then they both high-tailed it out of there. The only thing Viktor could think of when they finally stepped into open air was how relieved he was to be out of that stifling place.

* * *

Yuuri woke up surrounded by darkness, and immediately panicked.

The worst part of the training underground had been the dark. When they would blindfold him and tie him up and beat him so that he wouldn't flinch, so that he couldn't know when the blows would fall. They would follow no pattern or organized rhythm, they simply hit him and hit him until his body was bruised and broken and he no longer curled in on himself with every blow.

The darkness had also meant being alone. He couldn't tell the difference between day and night anymore, and instead measured his time as lights-on and lights-off. Whenever the lights were off he was left bare and alone with only his treacherous thoughts to accompany him, and those were the worst times.

Yuuri's mind was a monster in and of itself. Whenever he let go it would lunge for him, attack him with thoughts of a false happiness and a place where the sun reached. And then it would crush that idea under a cruel foot and remind him of the world he lived in, where he was a pet, a plaything being tempered for consumption.

They would eat him alive up there.

Yuuri sat up quickly- too quickly, and the world caved under him. He fell backwards again and his body hit something soft and slightly warm that embraced the impact easily, with a quiet poof sound. It did nothing to ease his fear, and Yuuri quickly fumbled around before he managed to locate where he was: in a soft bed. The room was dark.

Too dark. He felt trapped- suffocated.

All too quickly did the familiar squeeze in his ribs appear, and he brought his knees up to his chest under the covers and buried his face between them, eager to make himself as small as possible. The panic settled in the bottom of his stomach like lead and refused to budge, his fingers trembling around his legs and teeth gritted so hard his head ached.

He wanted to escape, but he was too small, too weak. In the darkness he was exposed to exactly how pathetic he was, how harmless. He was an _omega_ after all, a creature meant to submit and be dominated. The darkness lurked with creatures waiting to eat him up with dripping jaws.

"No," Yuuri begged into his knees, his voice pathetic and small and _weak_ and he hated it, he hated it with every fiber in his body, "please, no-"

His plea was cut off with a choked sound as the darkness welled around him again, looming and heavy. It threatened to sink its claws into him and drag him under, submerge him in the emptiness of it all. To make him submit. He dug his fingers into his skin, too numb to feel the pressure as he whimpered into his arms, begging the unseen aggravator to let him go, to stop-

And then the darkness lifted like a cloud that had dissolved into thin air, and light slipped through his tightly shut eyelids in colors of red and yellow. Hesitantly, slowly, did Yuuri allow himself to open his eyes. The sudden brightness was almost blinding when he lifted his head, and he had to blink several times before he could finally focus, first on the pastel blue bedsheets and then the soft white carpet, before finally turning to the doorway.

Standing there was an angel bathed in white light.

Yuuri blinked multiple times to refocus, and he realized with humility that the man in the doorway was not an angel, but rather the person who had visited him in the dark room before. Memories of the auction came flooding back to him and for a moment Yuuri was compelled to drag himself down into the darkness on purpose before he shook those thoughts away and stared emptily at the man- Viktor Nikiforov, or rather, his new master.

 _Alpha_ , his mind sang gleefully, all too eager to sink its teeth into his delicious mind once again after getting a taste of him before. Viktor was an enigma, an incomprehensible figure of light that had come in from nowhere and left Yuuri feeling more helpless and exposed than he ever had before... and he hated it. Viktor so easily stripped him of any idea of power and exposed him to true weakness.

Viktor smiled and the world became much too bright- Yuuri had to look away in fear of going blind. When he dared to turn back the smile had muted itself, but Viktor's lips were still curved upwards carefully, as if suppressing himself. Yuuri found himself inclined to place a blind trust within this man's hands and the mere idea of it _terrified_ him beyond comprehension, yet Viktor was completely oblivious to this as he leaned against the doorway and crossed his arms over his chest casually.

"You're awake," Viktor said, his syllables a little rougher than Yuuri was used to. It was the first comprehensible thing Viktor had said to him yet aside from his own name- the language he had spoken when they met in the dark place was something fast and soft, but definitely not English. This was.

Viktor moved as if to step forward into the room and Yuuri had jumped out of the bed and plastered himself to the wall before he even realized what he was doing. When he did, Viktor was staring at him with a mixture of hurt and confusion, before his brow smoothed out into understanding that frightened Yuuri even more.

 _Escape_ , he ordered himself, against the wishes of his inner omega who craved to stay much closer to this man. _Flee. Find a way out and run._

He'd be damned if he was going to die here after all that he had gone through. Yuuri's gaze flitted to the side and he realized it at the same time Viktor did- _door._ Yuuri didn't dare risk hesitation, bolting to the huge sliding doors and fumbling the drapes out of the way. He unlocked it and swung them open, slamming them shut behind him before turning to run-

And nearly leaping off of a balcony several hundred feet from the ground.

Yuuri managed to stop himself a mere inch away from the ledge, bare toes brushing the smooth marble, and he considered jumping- throwing himself into the darkness that called his name and letting it swallow him whole. All he has to do was vault the railing that protected him and the ground would have its mercy with his bones.

Behind him, the door slammed open, and in the next second- just as Yuuri had moved forward to leap over the railing- a strong pair of arms wound around his midsection and dragged him back away from the edge and against a solid, warm chest.

Yuuri was paralyzed. He could only feel the arms around him, trapping him and locking him away. It was so much worse than the darkness, because he couldn't escape from this. Viktor was far too strong, he had already proved that, and he was far too weak. The arms encircled him like a vise, crushing him- and he couldn't breathe, couldn't even form a coherent thought.

He was trapped yet again. And Yuuri was so sick of it, of always being held down and tied up and stuffed away like a doll. He wanted escape, he wanted freedom, and leaping off of the edge of a balcony would only prove him to be the coward that he really was. Yuuri felt himself relax in Viktor's arm, pliant and willing, and just when the grip began to loosen- he struck.

The taste of blood was one that Yuuri was unfortunately familiar with, both his own and other people's. Bitten tongues, hands, broken teeth- he was used it, but he would never enjoy it. He would never take satisfaction in the way it felt to break through a person's skin with his own teeth and feel the blood well on his tongue and spill into his throat, splattering against the roof of his mouth. It was disgusting and he felt like a wild animal; but it worked, it always worked.

As soon as Yuuri sunk his teeth into Viktor's forearm he was released without hesitation as the man cradled his injured arm. Yuuri had learned by now to not hesitate or stall, and he immediately moved for the sliding door and ran into the massive house, escaping into the velvet-carpeted hallway through the cracked door. He could head Viktor yelling, scented his anger and pain, and tasted his blood on his tongue, but he didn't dare stop, running as fast as he could to find an exit.

_Escape. Escape. Flee. Find an exit and run for your life, Katsuki Yuuri, unless you want to find yourself back in that dark place once again. This is your only chance, don't you fucking take it for granted._

Yuuri ran until his legs burned from the strain, unused to exercise, but he never stopped, fueled by raw adrenaline and fear. The winding hallways only seemed to grow longer and they were all identical- he went down a dozen staircases and got no closer to the ground itself. He turned a sharp corner next to a statue he hadn't seen before only to find himself in an identical hallway.

 _Hide_ , he thought desperately, whipping his head around as he tried to find the least likely place somebody would look for him. He spotted a lavish-looking door with intricate designs, likely a guest bedroom or social room. _Closets. Cabinets, drawers, anything- you can fit. Hide in their and mask your scent with the clothes so he can't find you and send you back._

Yuuri struggled a little with the stiff door before bursting through it, only to be submerged in total darkness. He screeched to a halt as his flight response kicked into overdrive- _run, run, run run runrunrun_ \- but then the door slammed behind him and the world was completely black. The dark rose up to consume him once and for all, but then somewhere within the darkness a voice rose, gravelly and unpleasant:

"So _this_ is the million dollar omega my son has dragged home from the auction."


	3. Update/Note

**NOTE: this is not a chapter, it's an update on the fic and future plans.**

First of all I want to thank you guys for the comments I've received on this fic, they're really sweet and I love to go back and read all the comments I get (because I'm a narcissist- or maybe I just need self-validation ;^) either way,) and I'm so happy other people are enjoying what I write. That said, I feel awful because I simply don't have the time or motivation to update. In between classes, work, and just general dealing-with-my-entire-family I can't squeeze in time for writing this, which upsets me to no end because I honestly was excited as hell for this story.

Don't worry. If you enjoyed this fic, it isn't over. I'm not one to just throw in the towel, especially for a project like this that I've been working on for a long time. This is where my beautiful loving S.O. steps in- and, honestly, guys, bless her. She's been a champion these past few months and she's been cheering me on since day one. She's also an incredible writer, which leads me to the following announcement: I will no longer be writing for this fic. Instead, I will be letting her take over it (her psued is katsukiforov) while I scheme maniacally in the background.

This story is my baby- everything I write is my baby. And since I can't bear to just let this collect dust, and she's been right by my side helping write this since day one, there's nobody else more qualified to keep it running.

There's going to be writing style difference and we've also been playing with the plot, so instead of giving you guys some severe stylistic whiplash we've decided to have her write the first two chapters in her own flow and with the minor developments we've added. I suggest you read them even if you read this one because there's new stuff there and it's going to keep moving in a slightly different direction!

As of now the new & improved fic isn't up, but we'll be posting it as co-authors so that I can edit in my freetime and so it's easier for old readers to keep up. Once it's updated I'll make sure to post that on this fic, and shortly after that I'll be orphaning this fic since it's really just... old news! 

I hope you guys will take time to read the new version. I promise that it's not too terribly different and I certify that katsukiforov is an excellent writer, moreso maybe than me. Our styles are fairly similar but everyone has a different, unique voice when they write!

Thank you all for your support until now. I hope you can continue to enjoy what I write!!

\- wyn

 

P.S. a not so sneaky note for those waiting patiently for the permanent ink verse. I apologize, I really do. The only excuse I have for not having the date!fic I promised, like, three months ago is my own business and terrible writer's block. I'm unsatisfied with how the first fic came out but I promise I'll be getting to it as soon as I possibly can, but there's a chance I might be completely remaking the fic because there's just, so much inconsistency (which is partly because I've never written fic before that and it was incredibly experimental, and the plot shifted as I went on.)

Thank you guys so much for being patient with me! Have a great March!

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [tumblr](http://www.mak-ka-chin.tumblr.com) i'd love to chat!!


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